Blood Dance

Blood Dance [for Clive Barker, in gratitude for reinventing the form that is still the standard today and to Poppy Z Brite for inspiration ]



The sound of the stiletto heels echoed along the pavement beating a rhythm as steady and as inexorable as the mission she was on. She was hungry, she would feed tonight, of that she was certain. The wind blew discarded newspapers down the street as she walked on. It had begun to rain some time ago, the intensity increasing with every passing moment, but she hardly noticed, so absorbed was she in the task at hand. The streetlights overhead provided scant vision or solace for those unlucky enough to be on the streets at this time of night, however, she could see just fine. The cobblestones reflected the lamplight as she strode on purposefully. A fine mist gathered around her as she emerged from the mouth of the alley. It clung to her like a second skin. She smiled as she considered the metaphor, indeed she knew quite a bit about "second skins." A host of scenes ran through her mind, most of them visions from a forgotten age. And as she walked on, the rain continued to beat steadily against her face. She had agreed to meet him at the usual time, right at midnight. The ads she had run in the personal column since her arrival had made it easy for her to meet her victims.

When she had spoke to the man on the phone, he had sounded like almost all the others, desperate and lonely, which made them particularly vulnerable. She stepped through the shortcut in the fence she had come to know so well and headed for the familiar spot, striding across the rubble strewn landscape with all the eager anticipation of a newlywed, kicking aside beer cans and other garbage alike in her excitement. She sensed him before she saw him, the intensity of his sexual urges giving off a kind of heat, that to Zahava, were like thermo-nuclear vibes. He came into full view as she stepped into the mouth of the alley, swaying back and forth and talking to himself like an idiot. Perfect she thought. She dropped the cigarette she had been smoking and without looking downward, crushed it underfoot. She quickly looked around, she would brook no interruptions once she had begun the ritual. Seeing no one, she was galvanized into action. She immediately started forward. She could feel her sex vibrating like a tuning fork as her incisors began to unsheath
copyright 2010 by Kevin Casey Murphy